by Lisa McMann
Thisbe’s lip quivered. She felt miserable—physically from the fall and emotionally about Dev. Just thinking of him made her not want to be alone. She felt vulnerable, unable to walk, and worried for her sister venturing out alone without being able to fight properly because of her injuries. Not to mention having so few components. “Please be careful,” she called.
“I will,” Fifer replied. She continued down, moving slowly as her aching body allowed.
Thisbe pressed her face between the handrail balusters, watching Fifer go until she couldn’t see her anymore.
“You’re on the third floor,” Fifer called up through the center of the spiral. Then: “Ooh!” she said, startled.
“Are you okay?” asked Thisbe.
“Just some animals down here in the shadows under the stairs. Foxes, I think, hiding from the dragons.” She was quiet for a moment, then called up in a softer voice, “Definitely four dragons, all red. They’re staying still. I’ll be back soon.”
While Fifer was gone, Thisbe checked all of her pockets to take stock of her components. Luckily, she still had the three obliterate components, individually boxed and safe in her inside pocket, thanks to the flap and button she’d added to it. That had kept her from losing them when the Revinir had dumped her and Fifer upside down and shaken them.
They were her answer for getting rid of the Revinir. But in addition to not knowing where she and Fifer were at this moment, Thisbe also had no clue where the Revinir was. And that’s what unsettled her most.
Intruders
Dev Suresh, as he now believed himself to be, sat squeezed inside a broom closet in a tiny vacant house in the deserted village bordering his broken-down palace. He’d picked a dwelling that seemed solid and was located deep inside a maze of houses that were separated by narrow paths rather than broad roads. It was one that would be harder for dragons to get to if they were looking for him on foot.
He’d stayed perfectly still inside the cramped closet, feeling every joint and muscle in his body begin to ache. But whenever he started to doubt or question his resolve, he remembered the last time he’d been forced to hide from this group. “It’s better than the river” had become his mantra, and he repeated it over and over in his mind to get him through. Anything was better than that.
When hours passed and no disturbances were felt or heard, Dev began to wonder if the Revinir and her team of dragons had passed him by without stopping. Was it possible they hadn’t noticed him sneaking out of the center turret and running for his life? Or perhaps they’d seen him but didn’t care? He thought back to the time in the river. He’d nearly drowned and hadn’t witnessed where they’d gone after that. Perhaps this palace was just a spot along their path to some other place.
Or maybe Dev was really paranoid. After all, the Revinir had thrown him out of the castle tower from a ridiculous height and called in her dragons to dispose of him. So it was very likely that she thought Dev was dead. But the dragon-woman was exceedingly tricky and evil, and Dev didn’t trust anything about her. She could be toying with him right now. She could be staring in the window of this house, smelling him. Waiting for him to feel confident enough to emerge.
Dev closed his eyes as his breath grew shallow. Fear and dread crept in like they always did. He let his head fall back against the wall, and when it made a little thud, he worried that the Revinir had heard it, and at any second, the dragons would destroy this house with him in it.
It was too many worries for anyone, especially someone who’d gone through as much trauma as Dev had.
More hours passed with no intruders or disasters. As the light from under the door became muted, Dev eased to a standing position, then quietly and carefully turned the doorknob and pushed it open an inch. He held his breath, listening, then put his eye to the crack and looked out the kitchen window.
No one was there. He pushed the door farther and eased his aching body out of the closet, peering into other areas of the house but seeing no one. He let out a sigh of relief. Of course no one was there. There was no way a dragon could be inside unless the whole ceiling or an entire wall had caved in. “Silly,” Dev muttered under his breath. Everything seemed ridiculous now that he could rest assured no dragons were nearby. But the feelings and fears had been very real.
He checked the windows that overlooked the surrounding village. It was deserted, as always. Dev had sat inside a tiny closet for half the day. He was more than ready to get back to the comfort of his home.
As he slipped out onto the path, Dev looked left and right, and also above him, just in case. He wasn’t about to throw caution to the wind. When he was sure the coast was clear, he proceeded toward home. The sun had set, and in the growing dusk, Dev stayed close to the houses for cover, then made a fast break for the orchard. He picked his way between trees, stepping as quietly as possible, though he was unable to avoid the crunch of leaves and the occasional stick because of the fog that began rolling in and surrounding the hill that the palace stood on.
Dev reached the edge of the orchard and paused to look again in all directions before moving across the open area to get to the palace. His eye caught a slight movement by the center tower entrance, but it disappeared inside—was it one of the foxes? It seemed larger than that. And then he swept his gaze from side to side and saw red. Two medium-size red dragons at the near corners of the property.
His heart thudding, Dev gasped and sank into the fog.
A Standoff
Dev hovered in the fog between two gnarled apple trees, his heart still pounding. Even in the dark he could see the dragons’ eyes glowing and their occasional flares of fiery snorts. Surely they must smell him by now, but they didn’t seem to care. They didn’t move or communicate with each other that Dev could see. Why were they here? Did their presence mean he couldn’t go home to his palace now? His heart yearned for the library tower. What was he supposed to do? Go back to the village and hide in the closet again?
It occurred to him that perhaps the dragons weren’t concerned with him because they hadn’t been ordered by the Revinir to attack him—similar to the dragons that guarded the castle. She hadn’t sent out a roaring command in many weeks. Perhaps the dragons were there for some other reason than to go after him. But why had they decided to park themselves here? Maybe they were just weirdly resting at the corners of the palace property… before heading somewhere… else. Dev blinked. He knew there was no reason for them to be out here in the middle of nowhere unless they’d been sent.
When he could tear himself away from watching the dragons for a moment, he estimated the distance to the middle tower and contemplated making a run for it. Would they chase him? Even if he made it, would he ever be able to go out for food from the river? It was sickening to think about. One false move and Dev would be a hot meal.
Yet the more he realized that he couldn’t go back to the palace, the more he wanted to do just that. He finally felt like he belonged somewhere, and he’d only gotten to experience that feeling for a short time. It was heartbreaking to think he couldn’t go back. This was his land now, and the dragons were invading it.
Maybe they would leave soon. Perhaps they were just resting for the night to see if anything was happening here. It was beginning to drive Dev crazy that he couldn’t figure out what was the purpose of their visit, if not to go after him. But here he was, stuck halfway between them, hidden from sight by fog, and there was nothing he could do about them tracking his scent. Heck, he could smell them well enough, and he was only part dragon. But they weren’t even looking at him or flaring their nostrils his way.
A light flashed from the onion-bulb top of the center tower, catching Dev’s eye, and he gasped again. Was someone up there? The light had come through the south window, which was surrounded by bookshelves. Dev often looked out that window and dreamed about chopping down the overgrowth he was currently nestled in. Who was in his sacred place? It couldn’t be the Revinir—there was no way she could fit without destroying the
entrance and the stairwell. It couldn’t be the fox he’d seen darting into the door a while ago. So was it a human? Was someone here with the dragons?
The light stayed on, and a person-shaped shadow crossed the glass. Dev strained to see, but whoever it was didn’t come close enough for Dev to make out any features. Who was invading his home? He went from scared to furious in the span of a minute. An intruder! Touching his things!
And then he remembered the painting of the girl in the orchard, which he’d slipped into a book on the desk. The images from the ancestor broth flashed before his eyes as he worried about it. He didn’t know why he was so worried, but he knew he didn’t want anyone taking that painting. The scales on his arms and legs, which were already on alert, strained against the grain, making his skin hurt. He wanted to charge back to his home and defend it and its contents. Who was this invader? What was he doing there?
Dev’s lungs froze as the image in his mind landed on the gray man. Could it possibly be… him? His grandfather Ashguard? Long thought dead, returning home? It could happen—Astrid the ghost dragon had thought Maiven Taveer was dead. Perhaps Ashguard had been mistaken for dead too. After all, a few of the ancient books in the library had been used and left open not long before Dev had arrived—they’d had no dust on them. Was it Ashguard who’d been up there? If so, where had he disappeared to for all this time?
Dev realized these dragons were the Revinir’s mind-controlled red water dragons. So they weren’t here to assist Ashguard—he’d be an enemy of the Revinir for sure. Were they here to capture him? Were they waiting for him to leave so they could attack him?
If so, Dev had to do something. The gray man could possibly be the only kin Dev had, and after spending his whole life thinking he had none, he wasn’t about to let this person slip away.
He crept forward through the fog, keeping his eyes on the dragons. The one at the back corner turned his head sharply at Dev’s movement and glared, two fiery orange spots set inside the outline of the dragon’s spiny head. Dev froze, but the dragon didn’t come at him.
Dev felt faint. What was he doing? This was the most unwise choice he’d ever made. Well… maybe not, but it was pretty sketchy. He knew he could get his palace back later, after whatever was happening ended. But he’d never see it again if he kept inching forward and the dragons attacked him. Ashguard or no, Dev wasn’t about to risk his life again. He waited agonizing minutes for the dragon to look away, and then he pivoted on his haunches and started creeping back the way he’d come. Through the orchard. Back to the village.
He didn’t see the light go out, or the girl standing at the window peering out at him.
Uncomfortable Lies
Something is moving in the fog,” Fifer said, putting out her magical highlighter and squinting out of the library window. “Bigger than a fox.”
“What is it?” asked Thisbe, alarmed. She sat up on the sofa in the glorious library tower, which Fifer had discovered after she’d returned with water from the pump. She’d helped Thisbe climb the stairs. And though the trip had been agonizing, it was a relief to have some comfort and warmth and books around them. But there were also some unsettling features of this room. Like the old ripped and bloodstained shirt wadded up in the corner. And the half-eaten fish that was now beginning to stink up the room. It wasn’t very rotten, though—not weeks or even several days old. More like someone had been here recently and had left in a hurry.
“I can’t tell for sure,” said Fifer. “But it moves like a person. He’s creeping away from us.”
“Must be some vagabond looking for shelter who saw the dragons and decided it wasn’t worth it,” said Thisbe. “Maybe he was trying to come back for his fish.” She wrinkled her nose. “Do we dare eat it?”
“I’m tempted,” said Fifer, who was currently, unfortunately, not carrying anything to catch fish with. “I’d use it for bait if I had a hook.” She paused and glanced at the fireplace. “The fire still has embers. I’m going to light it.” She stared hard out the window for another few seconds as the person disappeared into darkness and fog. Then she turned and went to the fireplace, using her uninjured hand to stoke the embers and add more wood to it. Soon the fire was crackling merrily and making shadows dance around the rotunda.
“This would almost be pleasant if my ankle didn’t hurt so much,” said Thisbe. “And if we weren’t surrounded by dragons. Do you think we should do another send spell? I’m worried Florence or whoever is coming after us lost track of us. They definitely should have been here by now, wouldn’t you say?”
“Hmm.” Fifer turned away from the fire and went over to the corner where the musical instruments were. She kept her face hidden because it was dripping with guilt. She knew she needed to come clean with Thisbe, but she was still struggling in her own mind to understand why she’d told Florence not to come. “I don’t want to waste components,” she said, but she knew it was a silly reason. If the others had actually followed them, as Thisbe believed and expected, of course they’d waste a send spell to make sure the twins could be located.
“But then again, if they’re lost, why haven’t they responded?” Thisbe sat up higher, her voice edged with worry. “Maybe they’re just trying to figure out how to handle the dragons.” She turned to look out the east window and could just make out the northeast corner’s dragon in the darkness. “Or… do you think the Revinir was telling the truth about no one following us?”
“Maybe Florence is worried about revealing that they’re coming,” said Fifer, cringing as she lied. “They might not know that the Revinir isn’t with us anymore.”
“You’re sure she’s not here?”
“I looked all around the courtyard. In every direction. There are four red dragons, and that’s it.”
“Then maybe I should just send a message to Rohan again. Or Florence. What did you say to her when you sent yours?”
Fifer cringed again and picked up a roundish instrument with strings. She plucked it with one finger, making a face when she realized how out of tune it was and realizing she couldn’t tune it very easily with one hand. “Ugh, this is terrible.” She didn’t answer Thisbe’s question. She couldn’t remember exactly what the Revinir had said that had triggered Fifer’s rash actions. But a strange and scary idea had formed. What if they did join the Revinir’s side?
“Fifer?” said Thisbe.
Fifer jerked around. “What?”
“Are you okay?”
“I—yes, I’m feeling a lot better. Are you?”
“Same, but I asked you what you wrote to Florence.”
“Oh!” said Fifer. She explained sheepishly, “I got so annoyed by this out-of-tune lute, and I’m frustrated I can’t fix it.”
“It’s a mandolin,” said Thisbe, which wasn’t a disagreement, just a classification. “Bring it here. I’ll tune it.”
Fifer exhaled a quiet breath, hoping she’d successfully changed the subject, and brought the mandolin to Thisbe. While Thisbe tuned it, Fifer yawned and sat down on another sofa. A cloud of dust rose up, and she waved it away, then sneezed several times. Thisbe finished with the instrument and flopped back wearily.
“We should each take another medicine capsule and get some sleep,” Fifer said. “It’ll help us heal. We’ll feel so much better in the morning.”
“But what about our people?” Thisbe asked. She felt confused by the pain, and exhaustion had taken its toll.
“They’re probably just resting somewhere for the night,” said Fifer. “If they’re not here by morning, we’ll send the spell.”
Placated, Thisbe winced in pain as she adjusted, trying to get comfortable. She uncorked her canteen and swallowed a capsule, then closed her eyes. Within minutes she was sleeping.
Fifer did the same, but she couldn’t sleep. Instead she stared into the firelight, thinking about the Revinir. The Artiméans had brainstormed for months and had not come up with a way to beat her. She was surrounded by dragons who would do whatever she commanded
. But what if Fifer and Thisbe could get close to the Revinir when her guard was down and sort of… infiltrate? Or act as double agents? What would it look like to join forces with the Revinir—or at least pretend to? If they worked closely with the dragon-woman, and if she grew to trust them, would it be easier to do away with her? Or at least figure out what her weaknesses were?
It was the most frightening proposition Fifer could imagine. But the Revinir wanted Thisbe to join her so badly that it almost appeared to be an actual weakness, which the girls could exploit if they did it right. Could they pull off the most amazing con in the history of their worlds without messing it up? Could they use their brains, wits, and creative talents to convince the Revinir that they were willing to work with her after all?
If they failed, the Revinir would exact revenge far and wide, and perhaps destroy everyone and everything in her path. But if they did it right… if they appealed to the angry abandoned girl named Emma who’d only wanted a partnership with her siblings… whose existence must still haunt the Revinir… it just might work. The Revinir didn’t have any other clear weakness that Fifer knew about yet. But she was arrogant, and she believed she could convince Thisbe to join her even after all the times Thisbe had refused. Perhaps that was the way in. But was it worth the risk?
Fifer smoothed her robe, knowing that all of the noble head mages who’d gone before her had been so successful because of the risks they’d taken. It was a gut feeling, and Fifer wondered if she was actually using hers properly for once. She could feel it—the inner tug that told her this was right. It was what Florence had coached her to look for. What Simber had assured her was inside her.
Now Fifer had to convince Thisbe. And if Fifer knew her twin, that task would prove to be difficult. As she drifted off, she recalled the thought she’d sent to Thisbe after the Revinir had captured them: Remember the fights we’ve won. Rescuing Pan’s young dragons from ten years of captivity. Escaping the burning castle. Freeing their fellow black-eyed rulers from mind control. Saving Artimé from Frieda Stubbs. Fifer was going to dwell on that mantra from now on. Based on those successes, she knew that it took more than strength. It took cunning and wits to succeed against someone who was far more powerful than the two most magical people Artimé had ever seen.
